


Sherlock's Rules

by nox_candida



Series: Rules [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Massage, Possessive Behavior, Spanking, top!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-02
Updated: 2012-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-30 12:10:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nox_candida/pseuds/nox_candida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock tells John his rules for their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock's Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Written at the behest of several commenters who asked for a sequel to Rules wherein Sherlock gets to make some of his own.

The room was dark and quiet, apart from soft breathing and the occasional sound of hands moving over oiled skin. They’d been like this for nearly an hour, now. John, face down on their bed, arms resting comfortably at his sides and head turned to his right; Sherlock, sitting astride his arse, hands moving sometimes hard and sometimes slow and sometimes deep over John’s broad back.

Sherlock had dug in hard to start, strong, talented fingers working at tense muscles, kneading them—and John—into submission. He knew just where to press, to twist his fingers, where to go hard and where to go light to get the perfect reaction. John lay boneless and completely relaxed beneath him. Now, Sherlock was merely running his hands over the smooth back, tracing shoulder blades lightly with his thumbs, using his fingers to map out the quickest routes through London streets, enjoying the way his hands slid over slippery skin.

John’s grunts of pain had long ago drifted into hums of pleasure and slurs of encouragement, though he hadn’t actually said much in the last few minutes until, out of the blue, he mumbled, “You never did tell me your rules.”

Sherlock paused, stopping in the middle of tracing the quickest route from Baker Street to Covent Garden on foot. It was true, but that’s because he hadn’t had the chance. His mind had still been somewhat slowed from their…encounter in the kitchen, and John had seemed intent on distracting him with a hand on his thigh during the cab ride, and then they’d tumbled into bed as soon as they’d arrived back to their flat. And then, of course, John had had a shift in the surgery during which time Sherlock had had ample time to think about them as he waited for John to come home.

It’d been a long shift, though, and Sherlock had decided to give John a massage and the topic about rules just hadn’t come up.

Until now.

“Are you sure you’re capable of paying attention at the moment?” Sherlock asked, resuming the movement of his fingers over John’s spine, which was currently also serving as Tottenham Court Road.

John shifted underneath him, arching his back slightly so that his arse pressed up into Sherlock’s crotch. Sherlock ground down in response, his heart already speeding up a bit. “I’m listening,” John mumbled, his voice low and soft.

Sherlock leaned forward, settling his weight on his elbows on either side of John’s body and pressed his lips behind John’s ear. “You better be,” he murmured, then nuzzled at the skin behind John’s ear, nipping slightly and feeling smug when he felt John’s whole body shiver.

“Mmm, first rule,” Sherlock said into John’s ear, lowering his voice in the way that John had once admitted he found hotter than hell, “is that I don’t share, either.” He nibbled at the shell of John’s ear and was rewarded with a groan and another full body shiver. It hadn’t taken Sherlock long to deduce that John’s ears were incredibly sensitive, and he used that to his advantage often and without remorse.

“You’re not allowed to copy my rules,” John grumbled, though the effect was spoiled by how audible and quickly he was breathing.

“Not copying,” Sherlock huffed in John’s ear. “It’s _my_ rule and it’s an important one. I hope you’re paying attention.”

John growled quietly and lifted his hand into Sherlock’s hair, grabbed a handful and pulled his face down so John could have access to his jaw. He nibbled and sucked along his chin and Sherlock thrust once against John’s arse, his breathing already harsh and his heart thumping in his chest.

“Of course I’m paying attention,” John said after a moment of sucking and licking on Sherlock’s jaw, Sherlock’s eyes fluttering at how fucking _good_ it felt. “Don’t tease,” he said, using _that_ voice and Sherlock felt his heart drop into his stomach, that feeling of being struck by lightning during a blizzard. Waves of hot and cold rushing through every nerve in his body and he groaned, thrust again, and reveled in the answering grunt.

“Is that one of yours?” Sherlock asked breathlessly, panting against John’s ear in a way he knew would drive the man mad.

“Not yet,” he grit out, his hand tightening in Sherlock’s curls, “but it will be if you don’t get on with it.”

Sherlock hummed and twisted his head so that he could kiss John, deep, filthy, his tongue thrusting into John’s mouth, teeth scraping John’s lower lip.

He pulled back slightly, still close enough for his lips to brush against John’s, and whispered, “It’s one of mine. Second rule. You have to finish what you start.” His tongue darted out and traced John’s top lip, licking at the corner of his mouth.

John’s fingers rubbed briefly into his scalp and then he tugged on Sherlock’s hair again, pulling his head back so that John could return to nipping and sucking at his jaw. “Mmm. Good rule.”

“I know,” Sherlock said, shuddering at John’s teeth worrying at increasingly red, raw, sensitive skin. “That’s why it’s one of mine.”

John gave him a particularly sharp bite at that and he gasped loudly, his hips involuntarily thrusting. “Fuck, John.”

“Last rule,” John said, with that steely tone of voice that seemed to melt Sherlock’s bones and short out his brain.

“Ngh,” was all Sherlock managed to say, his eyes fluttering. He was gasping like a racehorse, suddenly unable to breathe properly.

“In English, Sherlock.”

That voice, _that voice_ , it always reduced Sherlock to incoherence, and some distant part of his brain thought it was unfair of John to order him to stay coherent in _that_ voice.

“Last rule,” he gasped out, and nearly choked when John sucked hard on the skin of his neck. “A-Any rule breaking merits punishment.”

He felt John still momentarily—a second that seemed to stretch precariously, like that split second of teetering on the edge before freefall—and then he tugged hard on Sherlock’s hair in an unmistakable way-- _Up. Now._ \--and Sherlock hastily complied to the best of his ability, scrambling to his hands and knees. John rolled onto his back and grabbed Sherlock’s hips, manhandling them down so that they were pressed up against each other, skin sliding along skin.

“Christ, John…” Sherlock moaned, because he loved this, the way John felt, his cock rubbing against John’s thigh, John’s cock thrusting up against his stomach.

“What kind of punishment did you have in mind?” John said against his ear, his hands curling around Sherlock’s hips, fingers brushing his buttocks and then digging in, John’s short, blunt nails leaving crescent shapes in the skin.

Sherlock gasped and ground down harder, his hands cupping John’s face. He leaned forward and nipped at his lips and he could feel John breathing hard against his, quiet sounds escaping him in time to his thrusts.

“U-Up to the…Christ!” Sherlock nearly screamed as John removed one hand from where it was grasping Sherlock’s arse and swatted him sharply.

“You like that?” John asked roughly, spanking him again, this time with a bit more force.

Sherlock couldn’t even speak, a wordless, needy sound emanating from his throat. He thrust his hips harder against John’s, leaned down and kissed him hard, wanting to crawl inside of him, or have John crawl inside of him. He couldn’t get enough, it wasn’t enough, but it was close, almost there, fuck—

John spanked him again and before he could do much more than gasp, John rolled them over so that he loomed over Sherlock. He quickly removed his hands from Sherlock’s arse and grabbed Sherlock’s wrists, pinning them on either side of his head. Sherlock felt the world spin dizzily around him.

“If you want to be punished, Sherlock,” John whispered harshly into his ear, making all the nerves in Sherlock’s body crackle with electricity, “then all you have to do is ask.”

Sherlock gasped in surprise as John thrust hard against him, fast. He dug his heels into the bed and thrust back, arching towards John because he needed this, now, _right now_ …

“John, _so close_ ,” he whimpered, matching John stroke for stroke. He could feel energy and heat gathering at his spine, the white hot press of orgasm almost there, so close.

“You know what I want to do to you?” John groaned harshly into Sherlock’s ear. “I’m going to bend you over the sofa and spank you until your arse is red and raw,” Sherlock gasped and his body jerked up against John’s mindlessly, rutting hard and frantically, “and then I’m going to fuck you until you see stars.”

Sherlock thrust once more and came, white-hot electricity pulsing through his body as he shouted John’s name.

He was keenly aware of John’s bruising thrusts against him, felt tingles of pleasurepain as John squeezed hard on his wrists and bit down on his neck before he stilled and broke apart, his entire body shaking against Sherlock’s with the force of his orgasm.

Sherlock lay on the bed, limbs sprawled out, mind slow with bliss, and fondly watched John heave himself off the bed and out of the room, only to return with a wet cloth. He carefully cleaned them up then climbed back into bed next to Sherlock, running a soothing hand over his belly and chest.

“Later,” he murmured and Sherlock smiled hazily, eyes already drooping.

“Promise?”

“Yes. Later.”

That suited Sherlock perfectly fine and he snuggled close, his head bent towards John’s and his hips pressed as close as possible. He was looking forward to that, but it could wait for now.


End file.
